


You started this game first

by linnhe



Series: The Friend Friend Fallacy [2]
Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Armpit Kink, Bruises, Cock Slapping, Heavy Angst, Light Masochism, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Painplay, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21517327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linnhe/pseuds/linnhe
Summary: Jungwoo really likes Mark. Mark knows that.
Relationships: Kim Jungwoo (NCT)/Undisclosed, Kim Jungwoo/Mark Lee (NCT)
Series: The Friend Friend Fallacy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572214
Comments: 6
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

"Why are you always so on edge around Woo," Johnny asked after the cake had been eaten and everyone has disappeared back to their rooms. Mark had been on his way to do the same, get a quick nap in maybe, when Johnny's gaze fixed him into place. "He really likes you, you know."

"I know," Mark replied, and left it at that.

\--

"Minhyung."

It was said barely above a whisper, but clear in the silence of the dorm room.

"Hm?" Mark hummed, his hands tracing the length of Jungwoo's naked thighs, mouth preoccupied with sucking bruises onto the plane of his stomach.

" _Ah-!_ Ah, it hurts," Jungwoo murmured, as quietly as he could, ever mindful of the other band members and their managers nearby. But he made no move to push Mark away, his long limbs sliding over the mattress as if they were underwater, with a slow and muted type of energy. His foot found its way onto Mark's thigh, toes digging in as he curled them in pleasure.

"It's been a while since anyone called me that," Mark pointed out. He went by his English name universally, it was the one he identified with most. 

He's not sure where Jungwoo picked up the habit to call him by his Korean name. He only used it when they were alone, and only when they were like this. As a result, Mark's Korean name got him hard now. He wondered if Woo did that on purpose.

"Did you miss me?" Jungwoo asked. He was looking down with lidded eyes, lips parted to allow shallow breaths.

"Of course I did," Mark assured him. Woo had been gone for months, everyone had missed him.

"You didn't reply to any of my messages."

Mark shrugged, his eyes twinkling. "You know how I am with technology. Totally useless." It was true. Or, mostly true. He could barely operate Netflix. Johnny had gifted him his old laptop, which was awesome, except Mark didn't know what to do with the thing. But he could've messaged back, he wasn't _that_ technologically illiterate.

Jungwoo just held his gaze, as Johnny had done earlier that day, when Mark had been horribly awkward about welcoming Woo back to the dorm. He didn't understand why they made such a big deal out of it; Mark was horribly awkward doing most things.

"Yeah," Woo breathed out after a couple of beats, his eyes sliding shut. He sounded tired.

Mark pushed himself up on his elbows, eyes round as he took in Jungwoo's face. His hyung had taken off his make-up already, the dark rings under his eyes on full display. His skin looked sallow, even in the muted light of Mark's bedroom.

"Should I stop? I know the doctor said you're doing much better, but you're still looking pretty tired... I know mono can fuck up your energy levels for like a year."

"Hmn-!" Jungwoo pouted in protest, bringing up one of his impossibly long legs and trapping Mark against his lower body. His eyes were still closed, but a faint smile was playing around his lips. "No, I missed this too much. Do you know how long it's been since I've been kissed? Not even cheek kisses. _You're contagious, don't go around infecting anyone else, I know what you're like._ Pah."

Mark grinned at the perfect imitation of their manager, and then nuzzled at the soft bit of skin right below Jungwoo's belly button, licking a slow stripe over it. There were black hairs there, forming an inviting path. But for now, he followed them in the wrong direction, pushing his tongue into Jungwoo's belly button.

Jungwoo squirmed underneath him, accompanied by soft noises of protest. Mark knew they were anything but. The more Jungwoo resisted him, the closer he was. Mark wondered about that dynamic, when it was always Woo chasing him when they were out in public; to an embarrassing and annoying degree. He'd hoped sleeping with Woo would slow him down a little while out and about, but that had definitely not happened.

"You're already like this?" Mark asked quietly, teasingly, his shallow dimples now lining his smile as he ran a hand up Woo's side. He looked down at Jungwoo's dick, which lay curved prettily against his stomach, the tip glossy with a single drop of precome. He was overcome with an urge to lick it off, but he knew what Woo liked. "Already this hard for me? I haven't even touched you yet."

"You have," Woo protested, a moan lodged in the back of his throat. His hands were running over his stomach, littered with the bruises Mark had been giving him for the last hour.

"Haven't touched you anywhere good yet," Mark corrected himself. He moved up further Jungwoo's stomach, latching onto a nipple and giving it a languid suck.

 _"Hnh-!"_ Jungwoo keened softly, bringing his arms up so he could bury his hands into his own hair, the muscles in his arms moving as he tugged at it. Mark bit down on the little hardening nub of Woo's nipple, gently, and Woo made a breathless sound halfway in between a moan and a sob.

He also trapped his other nipple, in between his fingers, pinching it as hard as he could. Jungwoo gasped, a full-bodied shudder going through him as his squirming became more violent.

"Hnn, fuckk. Minhyung-ah... please..." Jungwoo said weakly, rolling his head to the side to hide his face in Mark's pillow.

Mark huffed out a short laugh, and then focused. He knew exactly how to get Jungwoo there, from having done it dozens of times before. He pulled Woo's arm down, and placed a hand on the side of his face, placing just enough weight to keep him pinned in place. Then he latched onto the side of Jungwoo's neck, biting and sucking at it gently.

"Harder," Woo begged immediately, and Mark complied. He started sucking a bruise into Woo's skin in earnest, pushing him onto his side so he could reach further back, sucking a row of bruises until he reached Woo's nape. He licked at it, and slowly dug his teeth in.

Woo had stopped forming words several hickeys ago, his hand digging into the side of the mattress as he bit back a moan. He was trembling with how close he'd gotten, his lower arms and chest covered in goosebumps. Mark loved him like this; on the edge, a breath away from orgasm, but only able to wait for him.

Mark found Woo's nipple with his fingers again, pinching it harshly as he continued to bite down on Woo's neck. 

"Please," Jungwoo breathed out, appearing trapped between two opposing desires as he both moved in closer and tried to squirm away from Mark's touch, turning his hips away from him. He didn't seem to know what he was begging for.

Mark released his nipple and moved his hand down to Woo's erection, just within reach over the twisted length of his upper body. He slapped it once, as hard as he could despite the angle.

Woo let out a single wrecked sob at full volume, and came with a shudder, strands of come shooting over the edge of the bed. Mark let go of him then and Woo fell back against the mattress, breathing hard, looking at Mark with a dazed expression as he worked his way through the aftershocks of his orgasm. There was no recognition in his face, his eyes dull and lidded, lips parted.

"Oh? Did you go under?" Mark asked, brushing a knuckle against Woo's cheekbone. Jungwoo blinked slowly, but said nothing.

"I can't remember the last time you did that, just from this little bit of teasing." He carded his fingers through Jungwoo's hair, which felt silky and thick between his fingers. "You must have really missed it... it's the longest we've gone without since we started, maybe that's why?" 

He continued petting Jungwoo with a gentle hand, saying anything and nothing, trying to get Woo to come back to him. "Ready to make me feel good, now? I know how much you like that."

Jungwoo's eyelids fluttered, and then he blinked at normal speed. He closed his mouth abruptly, frowning as he uttered: "Woah."

"There you are," Mark observed with a grin, tracing a warm hand over his upper arm.

"Yeah," Woo laughed, blinking a couple more times and raising his eyebrows, as if to test if his facial muscles would still obey him. "I was _out_."

He raised up an arm next, and took hold of the headboard, smiling a cute smile that didn't fit his intentions. His eyes slid shut and he groaned happily, still basking in the afterglow. Mark's gaze flicked up to Jungwoo's armpit, unable to resist now that it was presented to him so willingly.

There were two things he thought were painfully sexy about Woo. The first was the way his mouth formed words, his jaw always a little too loose, displaying a lack of elegance that just got to Mark. How could someone so stunning look that goofy when talking? It hurt him in the best way.

The second was how good Woo smelled. Not like anything you could buy, not like anything pretty. He smelled of guy; musky, with a hint of fresh sweat. He eagerly buried his face in Woo's armpit, breathing in deeply as he closed a hand around his dick. It had wilted a little while he was caring for the other, but instantly grew fat in his grip when he was hit with the scent.

Woo laughed, squirming a little. "What's with you and armpits... I swear you'd fuck one if you could."

"I mean, would you let me?" Mark muttered into the soft hairs. He rubbed his nose and his cheek over them, and traced his tongue over them, groaning as he took another deep breath. The first few inhales were always the best; before his nose got used to it and the scent started dimming in sharpness and brightness.

"I love your body," Mark said mindlessly, "I love it so much." Woo made no reply, but he didn't need one. All he needed was continued access. If he could remain just like this, he could possibly die happy, face first in the headiest thing he'd ever smelled.

"Do all pits smell this good, or just yours?" Mark whined softly, his hand tugging at his dick with increasing need.

"Don't know," Woo said reluctantly. "I've only been with you."

Mark laughed softly, because Jungwoo had also been his first, but he doesn't think he's ever said it aloud before, and how had that not come up until now? They should probably talk about that at some point. Not right now, though. Right now, he was barely able to maintain the narrative that would help him over the edge.

Jungwoo, weak for him. Jungwoo, naked underneath him. Jungwoo's legs, quivering, bruised; Jungwoo, Jungwoo, Jungwoo-

"Minhyung," Jungwoo whispered encouragingly, lined with yearning. He'd just had Mark's full attention, but already sounded like he wanted it again. It was too much, and Mark came soundlessly, wetting the other's hip with his release. His jaw hung slack as he panted harshly, moving his face down so his nose was pressing into Woo's side.

Woo rolled towards him gingerly, and wrapped his limbs around him like a flower closing its petals over its heart. Mark immediately felt too hot, still worked up from his orgasm, but he couldn't quite bring himself to push Jungwoo away. Only because he knew it would hurt the other. He desperately wanted to be free though, off the stuffy bed, on his legs so he could take a deep breath and start doing other things.

"We should clean up," he said after half a minute, "manager-hyung usually comes up to sleep around this hour. And like, he got real weird when he discovered we'd locked the door, last time. I don't think I can convincingly lie and say it was an accident, again."

Woo breathed out slowly and let go of Mark, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed. His shoulders were slumped, head hung low. Mark wondered if he was having trouble finding his underwear.

"There's... there's come all over the floor," Jungwoo said incredulously. "Actually, no- it's everywhere. It's on the _wall_."

"Oh, fuck," Mark said in a slight panic, coming up behind Jungwoo to look at the damage. "Wow, how did you even- did you jerk off, like, zero times while you were away? How do we even clean that up?!"

Woo blinked at him. "Dude, how should I know? Do you have wet wipes or something- _someone's coming up the stairs,_ " he hissed suddenly, freezing in place.

They both held their breath, groaning in unified relief when they heard Yuta bickering with Taeil, their bedroom door closing a few moments later.

"Just use anything. Anything! Get your come off my wall, Woo!" he whispered frantically.

Although they tried their best, rubbing at it with Mark's t-shirt and water from the humidifier, it ended up being the story of how Mark's bedroom wallpaper ended up with a permanent and somewhat suspect stain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: EXPLICIT RAPE. Please mind the tags, please be safe. Do not read this chapter if this subject matter is harmful to you. This is a work of fiction, and does not describe real events.

Jungwoo can't remember when it started. He remembers what he was like beforehand, that part stands out to him clearly. He'd been a happy-go-lucky type of kid, who liked to dream big and saw every day as an opportunity to do something new, do something he could never have dreamed before.

When he gets scouted to join a talent agency while eating an afterschool snack with his middle school friends, it kind of baffles him. He'd grown up talented, but in sports. This agency wants him to model, act, maybe even sing. Never before had it crossed Jungwoo's mind that he might excell in those fields too, but as soon as it's suggested to him, he becomes a little obsessed. He starts begging his friends to go to noraebang with him, every chance they get, and begs his parents for acting lessons. He gets his way on both accounts.

The talent agency sends him on all sorts of auditions, landing him a variety of small gigs. Kid enjoying ice cream, kid at the doctor, background character. That kind of thing. Just as suddenly as it crested, his interest starts to wane. He wants to be a _real_ celebrity, not some nameless face in a dumb commercial. Maybe it's time for him to start taking his soccer practice more seriously again... the coach had told him he had real potential, could make a career out of it.

And then, a year into it, he gets accepted as an idol trainee, even though he didn't do particularly well at that casting.

"It's because you have a cute face," the manager appointed to him explains, "that's why you were selected. This company is big on the pretty ones. You'll see." Jungwoo takes an immediate liking to the guy. He has a masculine face, with a strong nose. He's tall, incisive and prideful. Something about him is eagle-like, which distinctly reminds Jungwoo of his old soccer coach. This was without a doubt a man who could lead him to greatness.

He shows Jungwoo around the goshitel he'd be living in for the foreseeable future. It's a nice one, located inside a building the company owns, girls and boys assigned a floor each. He's sternly informed there's CCTV in the hallway to the girls' rooms, and any trespassing would mean an immediate end to his company contract.

Vocal and dance lessons take place in the same building, and are daily and mandatory. His parents agree to let their teenager move in, under the explicit promise that he'd have a company-approved guardian looking after his schedules, and he'd still be attending school full-time.

Jungwoo learns idol training is brutal, and relentless. He goes to school, to his hagwon after on Thursdays. The rest of his hours are spent on idol lessons. He learns to eat more, sleep less, think less. But against the odds, he enjoys every minute of it. It makes him feel the way training for a match used to make him feel. If he can just push his body a little harder, reach out a little further, he'll achieve perfection.

Occasionally, they get Sundays off. Jungwoo joins the other idol trainees for church services; not because he's religious, but because he enjoys the rare chance to socialize. Sicheng is buddhist but explains he likes the way Christian churches make him feel. Mark is deeply devout and tries to read along in the little Korean bible the church has provided, a solemn expression on his young face. 

For the first time in his life, Jungwoo feels curiosity sparking within him for another person's inner world.

This is where his memory starts getting a little blurry.

His manager, his shadow, who leads him to and from every schedule. He used to leave in the evenings, but at some point, it seems there's no more waking moments without the guy. Jungwoo falls asleep with his manager sitting on the edge of his bed, and wakes up seeing him asleep on the heated floor.

" _Samchon_ ," Jungwoo says gently, after several weeks of this new ritual, "how come you've been sleeping in my room?"

His manager gets a sharp look in his eye. He's been looking extra tired lately, but there's some eagle left in him yet. "I'm not. I just come in early and you're still asleep, so I wait for you to wake up. Really, it wouldn't be like this if you learned to wake up at a respectable hour." He reaches out, and flicks Jungwoo's forehead. "Why are you so lazy, huh? Aish! What a brat."

If the intended result was to make Jungwoo laugh, it works. Jungwoo relaxes, and doesn't question his company's authority figure any further. 

Until an evening where he does leave after Jungwoo's last schedule, but comes stumbling back into his tiny room at 3AM, the whites of his eyes red and his breath stale. Jungwoo wakes up when his mattress dips under the weight of his manager sitting down on the edge, observing man with bleary eyes and a raging bedhead.

"Samchonnie?"

His manager is acting the way Jungwoo's father used to act after company dinners, and it's comforting in a way. 

"I'm sorry," his manager says with a small hiccup, and then starts crying. Not very loud, nor very openly. But tears well up in his eyes, and begin streaming down his face right before he looks away. Jungwoo is shocked. He's never seen an adult cry so miserably before - at most a couple of tears due to physical injury - and it unsettles him. It's as if his perception of how things work has been slightly tilted. 

Adults were steadfast, dependable. Bigger than life almost, in that they didn't seem to share any of the weaknesses his classmates and teammates displayed. 

But now _this_ adult was crying, the way his noona used to cry whenever she didn't get her way, when they were both kids still. It dawns on Jungwoo that grown ups were maybe just better at hiding their true feelings.

His reaction is instinctive, his slender hand coming to a rest on his manager's shoulder. He holds no fantasy that he can actually soothe the other. What did he know about things that could make grown men cry?

His manager takes a couple of deep breaths. When he speaks, his voice sounds uncharacteristically young: "Things have been so shit at home. My wife, she..."

He catches himself, and gives Jungwoo an almost fearful look. Jungwoo blinks at him, feeling amazed. His manager had a home, with people in it. Of course he did. But just like with his teachers, Jungwoo had never really wondered about it before. Everything that wasn't directly related to his day to day, to his experiences, might as well not exist at all.

"Nevermind," his manager adds quietly, looking down at his hands, "Jungwoo-yah, forget what I said. Okay? Forget I came here. I'll... I need to go sleep this off in a bathhouse or something."

Jungwoo nods. A strange neediness rises within him, though. It had been months since he moved into this room. And although he enjoyed it here, and had been video chatting with his parents regularly, he suddenly and intensely misses the feeling of being around a family member. His manager was reminding him of both his sister and his dad in this moment, but also of neither. 

Jungwoo realizes they've become a little family unit too, just the two of them. Weird and untraditional, but still precious to him. He wants his manager to stay, and talk about what made him sad, the way his noona used to do. Late at night, under the covers of her bed, after Jungwoo had crawled into it. Seeing his noona cry used to make him cry, and she'd dry his tears as she talked. 

But he can't say any of that, so he just waits for his manager to leave.

But, almost as if he can sense Jungwoo's silent wish, he doesn't go. Instead he lies down heavily on the bed, in an awkward position, gives a tired sigh and passes out within moments. Jungwoo bites his lip in confusion, and then breathes a little easier when he hears soft snores starting up. Slow, deep - like when his father would fall asleep on the floor, in front of their TV. He feels a weird sense of nostalgia, thinking of their TV back home; he hadn't watched one in almost a year.

He climbs over the mass of his manager's passed out form, taking his pillow and blanket with him, and sleeps on the warm and comforting floor that night.

"You're a good kid," his manager says the next morning, in more a croak than a voice, "a sweet boy." He's uncharacteristically soft to Jungwoo, from there on out. He tells him he's growing up well, compliments him on his ever-improving skill in singing and dancing, instead of constantly calling him a lazy brat.

In response, Jungwoo's heart fills with uncomplicated happiness.

During that happy period, he knows he's gained a second father, and he doesn't feel the need to call home as much anymore. It makes him feel a little guilty, but more than that, he feels independent and proud.

\--

The scenario where his manager stumbles into his room in the middle of the night, so drunk he can barely stay awake, plays out several more times. He can't quite recall how they start sleeping in Jungwoo's bed together. And he can't quite recall which night it was, that it stopped being about sleeping. 

But that night is when Jungwoo loses many things, some of them he didn't even know he had until they've slipped away, stolen by a weight on top of him that fills him with dread, and touches he fears. His manager compliments and begs him throughout, slurring his words.

"You've become so beautiful... Did you know that about yourself? And pretty soon, you'll be taller than me."

Jungwoo can't speak, only turn his head to the side when his manager tries to kiss him. The staleness on his breath is strong this night; a scent he's learned to associate with cigarettes, soju and beer, from that time his manager stumbled in with a cloudy glass of somaek and a cigarette stuck to his bottom lip. He'd playfully taught Jungwoo how to drink and smoke, just a tiny bit, to give him an idea of what it was like. 

It had seemed fun at the time, even if the cigarette had made Jungwoo feel light-headed and a little queasy. Now nausea swirls in his stomach at the memory.

"Jungwoo... please. Please, I need you."

 _This is not appropriate_ , he thinks in response. It's a sentence his father could have said; had said many times. _This is not appropriate._

He parts his lips to give the thought voice, and a tongue is pushed into his mouth. It's sour, strangely cold at the tip, kind of slimy. It licks at the inside of his mouth, like it belongs there, like it has a right. He screws his eyes shut, tries to withdraw his own tongue, but there's nowhere for it to go. His manager's face is so close to his. All of him is close to him. He squirms in disgust, and thinks _help_.

Jungwoo thinks he's really about to gag when suddenly his manager lets up, and attaches himself to his throat instead. He's heavy on top of him, made even heavier by the looseness the alcohol has instilled in his limbs, and Jungwoo can barely breathe, barely think.

"My wife, she... she won't even look at me anymore," is whispered against the skin of Jungwoo's throat. It sounds pitiful. "But you. When you look at me... Jesus help me."

A hand is placed on his crotch, which makes his stomach do a weird little flip. Jungwoo shakes his head, and squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't understand what this uncle is talking about, and he doesn't want to find out. He just wants to be away from this moment, from this place.

What follows is equal parts awkward and painful. He's rolled onto his stomach, told to bite his pillow, because first times always hurt. And it must be true, because once his pyjama bottoms have been pushed down, it hurts so much that Jungwoo has to smother scream after scream. His body feels cold wherever his manager isn't pressing his full weight into him, the string of his pyjama bottoms cutting into his thighs. His arms hurt from gripping at his pillow so hard, and his face stings. The grunts in his ear seem almost inhuman, low and irregular. For the life of him, he can't marry those sounds to the man who has been his beloved guardian.

"Sweet baby," is whispered into his ear, "my beautiful boy."

When it's finally over, Jungwoo has gone numb. Not his body, which has been abused in a place that now feels like liquid fire, but his thoughts. Everything seems very fuzzy, far away. He doesn't respond when his pyjamas are tugged back into place, nor when he's rolled onto his side. A heavy arm is placed over his waist, a kiss placed to his shoulder.

"It won't hurt this much once you get used to it."

His manager goes to sleep right after, right behind him, and his presence feels oppressive. Jungwoo can't fall asleep, can't get warm, feeling like he's snuggled up to an icy mountain range. There's so much pain, and he has to swallow his dinner back down several times.

He has almost no recollection of the following days, trapped in a fog he can't seem to climb out of. He thinks he's sent home sick, maybe. Maybe he did actually get sick. Home is the goshiwon though, and his bed is never empty anymore.

It happens regularly from there on out. It never stops hurting, not fully, but Jungwoo does get used to it. He becomes less hazy over time, as the treatment becomes his new normal. He starts responding to simple commands.

_Undress. Spread your knees. Suck._

Jungwoo distinctly remembers the person he was before. He remembers feeling confident; that things would always work out in his favour, because so far they always had. Remembers being carefree, and kind of oblivious, and _happy_. He remembers being in awe of grown-ups.

He can no longer imagine how he ever managed any of those things. Because now, Jungwoo understands what adults truly want, and his place in that.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this on my phone. More fic about Mork and Jonguwu needed to exist??
> 
> If you're into Shinee/Taemin/SuperM, my old stuff is [over here on LJ](https://linnhe.livejournal.com/). I'm pretty sure there's a desperately sad taekai in there
> 
> Decicated to my effervescent friend, [anygay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anygay/pseuds/anygay). They're writing a bomb gangster NCT AU, go check it out if that sounds like it could be your thing


End file.
